


The Hitchhiker and the Hitchkiller

by snafumoofins



Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Anyelle, Anyem, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snafumoofins/pseuds/snafumoofins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She enjoys picking up hitchhikers and killing them. He enjoys being picked up as a hitchhiker and eating his driver. Will these two killers kill each other? Or will they instead engage in a "killer" roadtrip? </p><p>Shameless smut with plot. Open for prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hitchhiker and the Hitchkiller

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this post on tumblr: http://prissyhalliwell.tumblr.com/post/140609272426/prissyhalliwell-jewishzevran-clowneprince

Times were tough for the average cannibal.

Once, there was a time when a few missing souls would go unnoticed, and even if noticed, the killer would always remain a mystery.

Now, devices of all sorts pervaded all of his attempts. Francis Ives, however, was untraceable. He’d burned off his fingerprints ages ago, but still, his methods of murder were being observed.

No longer could he go by his old ways of attracting prey and risk being recorded on an irksome camera. No, he had to think of something unique.

And he had. Hitchhiking. It was something that only the stupid would indulge in, a stranger looking for a ride. Once, perhaps, it had been considered something quite friendly and normal, but in this age, nobody could be trusted.

His prey would take him where he told them, usually to a desolate area that he had prepared. One murder later and he was seated beside a fire, happily eating away.

Today, he’d found no kind souls. He knew he looked quite the fright with his scraggly hair and beard, his large overcoat and wild eyes, but often, people seemed to assume he was a simple homeless bum.

He trudged down the road in the dark, using the occasional headlights to guide his way when a surprisingly old car slowed to a halt ahead of him. He was quite surprised and pleased to see such an old artifact, not nearly as old as him, but still, quite old.

It was a Chevrolet, pale blue and in pristine condition. When he moved to peer down into the rolled down passenger window, he nearly questioned if he’d been sent back into the 1950’s from the woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Loose blonde curls, eyes as blue as her car, red painted lips that matched the red cardigan she wore. She was the image of a modest pinup girl, and Francis wondered how her skin would feel under his tongue.

“You gonna get in, or are ya gonna just stare me up, stranger?” her Southern drawl added to her lovely little image, making it easy for Francis to shoot her a grin before opening the car door and sliding into the leather seat.

“Thank you for your hospitality…my stop is a bit a ways up this very road,” he informed, rolling up the window and unbuttoning his coat in a way that probably looked as though he were getting comfortable, when in reality, he was giving himself access to his weapon.

“Yeah?” the blonde cocked her head towards him, not letting her eyes stray from the road, “All that’s up ahead is woods. Got a huntin’ trip planned?”  
_  
_ “Oh, of a sort,” Francis couldn’t help but widen his grin. Perhaps he’d let her run, he did love chasing them down. It would be such a shame to dirty her perfect skin. Her scent, vanilla and spice, filled his nostrils and he had no doubts that she tasted as good as she smelled.

“Y’know…” his driver glanced for a moment at the rosary on her rear-view mirror, a confusingly coy smirk on her mouth. “I think I know where you’re goin’. Little abandoned cabin full of old chinaware cats?”

Francis found himself hesitating as he looked over to her, not quite liking how knowing she seemed. “Yes, the very one.”

“I _love_ going there. I mean, it’s just such a quiet little place…perfect for… _thinking_ , don’t you… _think_?” she snickered at herself, bobbing in her seat with apparent pleasure at her own quip.

“Yes. I find it quite difficult to find a nice place to… _think_ these days,” the tone of his voice was more guarded than he’d thought and Francis almost found himself feeling _hesitation_. Hesitation? He was a fucking Wendigo, a _god_. Why was this silly little woman making him fumble?

“I gotta say, I’ve done this for awhile, pickin’ up hitchhikers,” she brought him from his angry thoughts, with a conspiratorial tone, “But you, mister, I think you take the cake for the most _suspicious_ hitchhiker ever. It’s gonna be a shame that things will end the way they do…”

She finally looked over at him, soft blue eyes meeting tense brown.

There was a brief pause, followed by instantaneous movement. His knife came from the holster he’d sewn into his jacket and her gun came from the holster she’d planted beside her in the car seat.

“You just brought a knife to a gun fight,” she stated with a sympathetic quirk of her lips.

“Call me old fashioned.”

“I do appreciate an old fashioned…”

They’d both spoken at the same time, falling silent at the echo of the same words.

Well, that was certainly awkward.

His driver’s grip on her magnum (it appeared he wasn’t the only old fashioned one here) wavered, a doe-eyed fondness in her expression. “Really though, like…how would you kill me? I’m not teasin’ you, I just wanna know...it’s not often that a hitchhiker killer meets her opposite.”

A curious thing indeed. Francis took pride in his skill and often enjoyed telling his prey how he’d stalked them, how he’d end them and sauté them to perfection, but the idea of educating this woman, this _fellow killer_ …

He briefly skimmed his tongue over his lips before offering a wolfish grin. “I suppose I would distract you,” he spoke without much thought, something that rarely happened, “Perhaps I’d tell you how attractive your eyes are,” he felt an odd sensation of _fondness_ at the way a lovely pink tinge flushed up the woman’s neck and cheeks at that, “or create movement in your peripheral,” he moved his free hand to loosely trace the cross on the rosary beads hanging from her rear-view-mirror. “Or maybe, I’d tell you that after I’d killed you, I would eat you.”

Her face went beet red at that, and he was stunned as she _smacked_ his hand with her gun as if she’d heard some incredulous gossip. “ _Stop_ that!” she huffed with an endearing puff of her cheeks, the image of an ornery chipmunk. “Well, _stranger_ , you aren’t dealin’ with some fuckin’ damsel in distress, _obviously_. I mean…” her eyes flitted down and Francis felt an abrupt twinge from his cock as she sucked that delicious lower lip in between her teeth. “I...” her voice was so very breathy, fucking _minx_ , “I reckon I’d _like_ getting cut up for once. I always let my kills batter me a little bit, always gets the adrenaline pumpin’ ‘n lets them think they’re winning. I mean, I just _love_ when they are gettin’ nice and cocky and then _wham_ , they realize they done fucked up! I _love_ it!” a lovely, trilling giggle came from her, then, the perky blonde slapping her knee in glee.  

It was that childish glee that Ives realized something that startled him deeply.

He didn’t want to kill her.

And so he holstered his knife and cleared his throat before offering a hand to her.  
  
Her blonde brow furrowed and her eyes locked onto his hand for a long moment before she slowly placed her gun on her lap. When her hand touched his, he couldn’t deny the thrill he felt racing throughout his chest. So fucking _soft_ , so small and _perfect_. He already knew he was fucked.

“I’m Hierophant,” she said, offering a shy smile.  
  
“Colonel Francis Ives,” he replied before releasing her hand, finding himself incredibly fond of the odd choice of name. She certainly _was_ religious as the tarot card indicated, but the name itself was oddly fitting for the little thing.

“A colonel, huh?” she squinted at him with a grin, “You don’t look much like a modern-day military man, y’know that?”

“And you don’t look much like someone who enjoys a tarot card reading,” he speculated in return, pleased at the way she theatrically rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well it’s not every day that one killer picks up another and they-“

Both stilled at the same moment, Francis baffled that he hadn’t heard the car approach earlier. He’d been distracted by her and he wasn’t normally distracted by _anything_. She was, however, the sort of hindrance he welcomed, for once. Not the kind that irritated him. Like bear traps.

Hierophant and Francis glanced over at the squad car before both moved for the gun in her lap.

Their hands brushed and as if they hadn’t just shook the same hands earlier, they glanced at each other with a mirrored, startled look. They shared a brief gaze after they looked to one another, her eyes wide for a moment, as if feeling the same shock earlier, that perhaps she also did not want to kill him. He retracted his hand and watched as a demure grin tugged at her lips when his fingers skidded across a texture that he could only place as fishnets, finding himself surprised that a religious little thing would wear such a thing.

Francis watched the little blonde holster the gun back in its proper hiding place and casually pop a button free from the top of her blouse before winding the window down.

He supposed he should’ve been on high alert and preparing his well finessed, suave personality for the officer getting out of the car beside them, but a delicious smell caught his highly tuned senses. Francis’ mouth went dry at the musk and his cock was most certainly hard as his mind processed the truth of the situation: that this little minx, who’d picked him up from the road with the intent to kill him only a quarter of an hour ago, was fucking _wet_ for him.

“Is there a problem, officer?” her voice brought him from his racing thoughts. Francis gave the officer a proper look-over to see that it was quite a young man that stood outside of the small car, probably fresh out of the academy.

“I just saw your car parked and wanted to make sure everything was all right, ma’am,” replied the lad, who cleared his throat, obviously flustered by her looks.

Casual as could be, Hiero leaned forward and Francis knew the boy would be getting an eyeful of those lovely breasts. _Mine._ He startled himself to hear a soft growl emitting from the back of his throat, causing the blonde to glance back at him with an enthralled smile before returning her attentions to the officer. “Oh, you’re _too_ kind,” she cooed, leaning further in the way of the young man’s view of Ives.

Francis furrowed his brow in confusion until he felt her fingers creeping up his thigh. His breath caught and for once, he found himself in anticipation. Oh, he’d had a whore or ten in his earlier days, when the lust was too strong to ignore, but he’d grown tired of it. There was nothing to it, just a woman with a body for him to rut. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t thrilling.

But _this_ …

“I was just pulling over so I could call our sitter and let her know we were on our way home,” the little vixen stated, her plump lips drawn in a heart achingly innocent smile.

Francis, however, paid no mind to the jealousy or her words anymore. He was _so_ fucking grateful for her ridiculously cramped car, for next, those fingers of hers slid beneath his long coat and over the bulge of his hard cock.

His knees nearly buckled as she squeezed, and he noticed the way she clenched her legs together, her voice pitching as she carried on about their non-existent trip to her mother’s.

He wanted to bend her over and worship that cunt of hers as soon as possible. God knows he’d come just from touching his mouth to it with the way she was winding him up. The fucking thing was calm as could be as she stoked the outline of his cock and spoke to the officer.

Instead of fulfilling his fantasy, he covered her small paw with his large hand and pressed it harder against his cock, Ives shamelessly grinding up against her touch.

It felt like absolute fucking _ages_ for her to conclude business with the invasive young man, Ives gritting his teeth and leaning into view long enough to give the lad a nod as the boy bid them safe travels.  
  
Once he was driving down the road, Francis let out a stinted hiss, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve…” He nearly admitted it to her, right there, that he’d never quite met any woman like her. A woman who could rile him up so terribly that he was glad to see a young, supple piece of meat walk away. “ _Hierophant_ ,” that devious hand of hers slid under his hand to tug the button of his trousers loose, bringing down the zipper.

“Hiero. Call me Hiero.” Hierophant still watched the patrol car drive off, lowering her lashes and smiling to herself. “You know, Colonel Francis Ives…I’ve never…quite met a man anything like you before…” she slowly looked to him, her brow drawn down, “I…Y’know, I’d reckon god sent you to me, as fucked up as our meeting was, but…” those red, plush lips drew closer, as did her body, the woman leaning across the center console of the small car. Her mouth ghosted over his for a moment and she wrinkled her nose, most likely from the tickle of his mustache. “I think…I think I’d like you to fuck the ever-loving _fuck_ out of me, Francis Ives.”

He grabbed her to him at once in immediate response to those precious, needy words and smashed his mouth to hers, their lips smeared together and one of them leaving the process with a bloody lip.

She quite literally _crawled_ over onto his lap, her rear bumping the wheel and causing the car to give a beep (and for them to share a quick grin) before straddling him.

He managed to wriggle his trousers down as she lifting her hips and quite literally _howled_ when she sank down against his bulge, rubbing against it with a tiny mewl of delight.

After a moment of inhaling her heavy musk, Francis realized his briefs were damp. _She wasn’t wearing fucking knickers_. “Oh you _minx_ ,” he breathed with a bare of his teeth, pushing her cardigan down and pressing his mouth to her neck.

He trailed wet kisses against her skin, pushing her blouse down as he went and actually feeling thankful for her unbuttoning the few top buttons of it in her attempt to sway the officer from earlier. “ _Francis_ ,” she groaned in response, the wendigo feeling surprise as a hard grip came to his shoulder, “Inside.”

That was all the more he needed to hear. The colonel immediately shimmied his briefs down  while Hiero sat back against his thighs. She shot him a gleeful smile before reaching down to get a proper hold on his cock. Her light grip was enough to make him want to come right then and there, but the man grit his teeth and staved off the urge. He would spill inside of her, mark her as _his_. He _needed_ to.

“Big boy,” the blonde above him cooed with a ridiculously adorable waggle of her brow, her thumb pressing deliciously hard against his slit.

“I won’t last,” he managed from his grit teeth, and she blinked a few times in confusion before removing her hand.

“I hear ya,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his mouth before sliding her arms around his neck, pulling herself above him. “Don’t worry about babies or none of that nonsense,” Hiero spoke as she slowly sank down until his head pressed against her sopping entrance. He hardly heard her mention that she couldn’t have children over the thrum of his own heartbeat, nearly ready to have a fucking aneurism just from his fucking head against her cunt. _Out of practice_. _Pathetic_.

“I…” he fell silent, wishing he could tell her he could fix that, if she wished. He didn’t want to get into his diet at that moment, but instead _really_ wanted to get _into_ her. “I-I see,” he managed in an uncharacteristic stutter.

At last, after another, brief kiss between them, she sank down onto him, giving a sharp inhale as he groaned. She was tight, fucking tighter than belief and Francis knew he was fucked. He couldn’t let this little nymph out of his fucking sights.

He let Hiero hold the reins, and though Francis loved a hard, quick fuck, he quite savored the way she melted against his body, her face nuzzled into his neck while she let herself adjust to his size.

Thankfully, it seemed she was just as out of practice as he.

After a few moments, he couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle up against her and she took the initiative to finally, _thankfully_ , move herself up against his body. The little witch was slow with it, letting her body drag up his and just as he feared he would slip from her completely, she sank back down.

Ives could do little more than growl, his dark eyes searching to find that in the light glint of moonlight, she wore a cocky smile.

All restraint gone, he found himself slipping his hands around her waist and lightly pressing his fingers into her skin to still her. “Don’t tease a wolf,” he purred, glancing up to see that grin fade before he thrust up into her. He savored the way her eyes fell shut and her mouth fell open, but the moan she gave drilled into his entire body. Ives let loose, bucking upwards into her with a vigor he didn’t even know he contained. He heard nothing but their heavy pants, her soft groans, the slap of his skin against hers.

As he kept pounding into that well of tight fucking bliss, he realized she was repeating something, no, _begging_. “ _Bite_ ,” she huffed, over and over, and oh, he would. Francis paused long enough to jerk the sleeve of her blouse hard enough that a few buttons flew free, baring her milky white shoulder. She didn’t let the movement between them cease during this, practically bouncing on his lap to keep some momentum going.

Ives made a noise of glee before meeting her next thrust downward, sinking his teeth into that pale shoulder and nearly spilling himself from the loud, breathy cry Hiero gave from above.

He remained latched onto her skin, sucking and gnawing on her flesh to leave a hefty bruise for her to admire while pistoning upwards into her. His mind wandered to all the things he could do with her, to her, all of the shared pleasure they could experience. He had to keep her.

With this in mind, he moved his mouth, slowly leaving a trail of red flesh until he had his sweating face burrowed against her breasts, groping her arse.

By now, he was nearly spent, but Frnancis Ives was a gentleman. He removed a hand from her read and slipped it up under her skirt as their movement became less articulate and more frantic, his fingers slipping against her cunt until he felt her clit rubbing against hand. She didn’t screech or moan, but instead gave a throaty exhalation. Hierophant’s legs trembled fiercely against his hips, her hands clumsily sinking into his messy hair to bring her forehead to his.

He lavished in this moment, the way their foreheads slipped together with sweat, how their heavy huffs and groans mingled between their lips, the way her eyes expressed so much gratitude and need that he wanted to gouge them out and fucking make a keychain of them. After a brief few moments of scrubbing his fingers against her clit, her face twisted, mouth forming a perfect “o.”

He would’ve laughed at her sudden string of curses, varying from “ _sweet mother Mary you fuckin’ fuck_ ,” to “ _I fuckin’…I fuckin’ want to fuckin’ eat you for fuckin’ breakfast lunch and dinner,_ ” but the squeezes that her cunt gave in her throes of orgasm had him groaning embarrassingly loud as she spat out profanities.

His balls tightened before he spilled himself into her, Ives seeing white for a few moments from the abso-fucking-lutely most blinding orgasm that he’d ever experienced.

He’d nearly touched whatever lay beyond the clouds with that orgasm, and if he didn’t feel he was close to godliness, he’d fucking almost touched that bastard too.

Hierophant immediately sank down against him after her body loosened up, warm, soft and panting. He’d always been one for fucking and leaving, at least with the whores from the older days, but this, this heavy pressure against his body, the dying throbs around his cock, this, he could actually get used to.

He loosely wrapped an arm around her, his hand splaying across her head to bring it to a rest against his clothed chest. He watched Hierophant as she stared out the window, the moonlight giving her eyes a crystalline glimmer. He wondered what she was thinking, if perhaps she was wondering how she could escape from him, or kill him.

“Y’know, I never knew the windows actually fogged up.”

Francis’ brow fell and he slowly looked at her in confusion before looking to see that indeed, the windows were quite fogged.

“Like, I read in some of my Nora Roberts’ books that it happened durin’ sex, but…I never knew that it really happened…”

He said nothing, only emitted an amused breath before wrapping a blonde curl around his finger.  
  
“I…”

They both spoke at the same time, Hiero lifting her head to look up at him with those wide baby blues and Francis shifting uncomfortably.

She spoke first.

“I think I’m gonna quit my job. I mean, I’m miserable there and like…I think…well, you’re obviously homeless and now I’m homeless too since they were payin’ for my living arrangements and…” her face fell for a moment and she looked down. “This is probably one-sided, but I feel like…I feel like you and me are just like, y’know, puzzle pieces that fit…”

He hated that look of disappointment on her face, fuck, he wanted to banish that look from her features forever. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and drew her gaze to his, his brow furrowed. “I feel the same way, little lamb,” he soothed, basking in the lovely, relieved smile on her face. “We...are a perfect pack, you and I, Hierophant.”

He’d met a lovely couple ages ago, a couple that loved to ride across the states, stealing from banks all the while. They could certainly carry on that legacy, in a manner of speaking.  
  
“Ya know, Francis…I think we are. Could we-uh…maybe go to that cabin after all before our roadtrip?

“Roadtrip?” he ventured with a interested quirk of his brow.

“Yeah, I mean…I don’t have anywhere to live and I’m guessin’ you don’t have anywhere to stay…Anyway, those chinaware cats are _mine_ and I wanna pack ‘em before we head out on this ‘lil murder roadtrip…and maybe fuck again ‘fore we hit the road.”

 _Fuck._ This had to be fate.  “Anything you want, pet,” he said without much thought. A warm little killer who enjoyed inflicting pain and receiving pain. The entire United States for them to roam in her little car.

This would be a roadtrip he would fondly remember for many years, no, _centuries_ to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I had no beta so there may be a few errors, I hope this was good :) I actually felt all right about the smut. 
> 
> Please feel free to prompt for more in this verse on my tumblr, snafu-moofins.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
